


all my stars aligned

by ivyrobinson



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22901392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyrobinson/pseuds/ivyrobinson
Summary: Marfa comes across Anya instead during the car backfiring, and takes her in.
Relationships: Anya | Anastasia Romanov/Marfa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	all my stars aligned

Anya was crouched in an alleyway, her arms protecting her face, a strange noise coming from her mouth, her mind was elsewhere- Somewhere dark and cold and damp and not accessible to her conscious mind when Marfa first found her. She could hear a distant sound of footsteps shuffling past her. Distant to her mind, when in reality they were up close to her in physical distance. The footsteps kept going before there was a muffled curse. Cold, long fingers pried at her arms, tearing away the protection they had offered her. A slap across her face finally snapped her out of it. 

“What’s wrong with you, bezdomnaya koshka?” Asks a woman, about her age though her eyes are much older. There’s a faded bruise against the crook of her neck that Anya focuses on. 

“I-I,” Anya stumbled with her words, her mind trying to bring her back to the present. “I heard a noise. It startled me.”

The woman just arched an eyebrow in reaction to that understatement. Then she reached down, roughly pulling Anya back to her feet. They’re eye to eye, only an inch or two height difference between them. “Most likely one of those cars backfiring. Russia doesn’t know how to make anything right these days.”

Anya’s eyes darted around, frightened for the walls and cobblestone paths had ears everywhere. The woman just laughed in response. “I should go.”

“You’re shaking,” She commented, reaching out to place a hand on Anya’s arm. Anya shook some more. “Where do you stay, what do you do?”

“I street sweep,” Anya answered honestly. She should find her broom, she couldn’t afford to have it taken out of her wages. 

She had nowhere she stayed really, just a nook under a crumbling bridge so she didn’t answer that. 

“Your name?”

“Anya,” she answered. She braced herself to have to explain why she didn’t have a last name, but then it wasn’t asked of her. Perhaps she was not the only one missing pieces of her after all. 

“Marfa,” she looked over Anya and sighed, “I can supply you with some food and a bed for the night and see what we can do with you.” 

She doesn’t let go of Anya’s arm, so she is not in a position to say no, she finds herself being less to a cramped apartment. Two other girls are already there. 

“I can’t lose any more of my clients,” a dark blonde woman announced when they walked in. “And the gents that like my type will flock to her.” 

“Calm down, Paulina,” Marfa responded, dismissively. She turned to Anya, “Do you work the Tochka?” 

It took Anya a beat to realize what she was asking. “No! I mean, no I do not.”

“See, you’re fine,” Marfa told Paulina. 

The dark haired girl got up to circle around Anya, studying her, “It’s too bad, a face like that with this air of sweet innocence around her that a gent would pay a pretty penny for.” 

Marfa reached over, tracing the line of Anya’s jaw, moving her head around. “We can help teach you, if you want, for a cut of your profits.”

Anya thought of the way men had already handled her, grabbed at her. Desperate and needy, the ways she had fought them off. It made her nauseated, just thinking of the way they’ve panted heavily in her ear, trying to find the fleshy part of her bottom while cornering her into alleys and how she’s fought them all off. She was not open for that kind of life, no matter the money it could provide her. “No thank you.”

“So prim and proper!” Marfa cackled. “Girls, this is Anya, I’ve offered her food and shelter for the night. Anya, these are Paulina and Dunya.”

Paulina still didn’t look moved, “And what is she doing for us?”

All three of them looked at her. 

“I’ve cooked and cleaned, I can help out with that,” she offered. 

Marfa shrugged, “Let’s start with that.” 

She spooned Anya a bowl of borscht, which she tried not to slurp down too greedily. It had been over a day since she last ate. 

Later, the girls got ready to go out, and Anya watched as she washed the dishes from their meal. Marfa applied powder over the bruise on her neck, Dunya reached under her skirt, spritzing some perfume up it, and Paulina padded her bosom with some linens. 

“You’re lucky,” Marfa said, resting her hand on Anya’s shoulder. A cold shiver went through her. “You’ve the bed to yourself until we come back. I’ll keep the fire low.” 

“We’ll most likely kick you out in the morning,” Paulina sang out as a goodbye. 

As soon as the girls were gone, Anya kicked off her boots, but kept the rest of her layers on, not having any night clothes to change into. She slid into the bed, far off to the side, trying to grab as much sleep as she could before the girls came back and decided to kick her out. 

She must have fallen asleep easier than usual, because she was awakened by the feeling of the bed dipping down and it rustling as someone climbed across it.

“Little bezdomnnaya koshka, have you slept?” Marfa asked as she laid beside her. Her hand reached out to her arm. “Are you still fully dressed?” Marfa’s hand felt along her side. “How ridiculous you seem, sit up Anya.”

Marfa always spoke with such an authoritative tone, she found herself sitting up. Also, the clothing felt bulky and uncomfortable now that she was awake. 

“I was so tired,” Anya said weakly, by way of explanation. 

Marfa’s green eyes were visible in the dark of the room, and seemed to see through her lie. She didn’t know how to be vulnerable in front of others, and being found in her underclothes seemed to fall under that. Marfa’s fingers unhooked the buttons on Anya’s jacket before pushing it off her. She moved onto the hook of her skirt. Anya lifted herself up a little bit so Marfa could slide it off of her. When Marfa pulled on her shirt to pull over her head, she realized she probably should’ve offered to do it herself. Instead she was lost in a trance of fingers against her skin and the feeling of being taken care of. Her blouse was off, and Marfa’s face was so close to hers their noses nearly touched. 

Marfa pulled away first, bundling up Anya’s clothes and setting them in the space above the pillow. “Better?”

Anya swallowed, “Yes, thank you.” She laid back down on the bed, her nerves more jumpy than they had been before she originally fell asleep. 

“Go to sleep, sladkiy kotenok,” Marfa whispered and laid back next to her. 

The door opened and closed and a few moments later the bed dipped again as she made her way next to Marfa. 

Anya awoke to a hand splayed against her stomach, Marfa’s cheek against her shoulder and her own heart in her throat. She could see past Marfa to see Dunya spooned against Marfa’s back, and Paulina behind her. All packed into this tiny bed together. 

Companionship she had been without for at least ten years now. Anya slipped out of bed quietly, slipping back into her clothes from the day before and going out to find her broom and her job. She contemplated whether or not to return to the girls’ apartment but she enjoyed the feeling of a crowded bed far more than she enjoyed the ground under the bed so she returned. The girls were still abed, spaced out a little more now there was one less body in it. She had picked up what items she could afford from the market and got to making a meal. In case Paulina made good on her threat to kick her out. 

Soon, the girls roused from their sleep, blinking confusingly as their nose sniffed the air. 

Dunya let out a delighted gasp, “You made food for us?”

“I need to earn my keep,” Anya responded, tilting her chin up. 

Paulina rolled her eyes but said nothing against her as she took her share of food. 

Marfa smiled at her fondly, “I suppose you can stay another night.”

Anya went to her next shift, and came back as the girls got ready to go out again. Paulina was fussing with her skirt as Anya closed the door. 

“You’ll have to wear another skirt,” Marfa was telling her. “I’ll trade a can or something for Little Mother to fix it for you tomorrow.”

“What’s wrong?” Anya asked. 

“There’s a hole in my favorite skirt,” Paulina pouted, holding the skirt up to show the rip in the middle of it. “It’s the one all of the officers like, and they pay me more for my silence.” 

“I can fix it for you,” Anya offered, pulling the collection of needle and thread she kept in her coat pocket. It was a necessary survival supply kit. 

Paulina begrudgingly thanked her as Anya worked on patching up the skirt. “I suppose you’ve earned the rest of the week here.”

Anya couldn’t help but smile up at her. There was a safe feeling being enclosed in a small apartment. Shelter was a luxury these days. 

This time she took off her coat and skirt, folding it carefully as she climbed into bed. Her far side, willing her breath even before falling asleep. She only half woke as the bed dipped and she felt Marfa curl against her body. 

She woke up to a leg hooked over hers, and a forehead pressed against her cheek. She slid out, went to work and made the girls lunch again. 

The next night, Marfa came home earlier than normal, just as Anya was sliding her skirt off. The skirt dropped to the floor, as Anya saw the blood coming from her forearm. 

“Marfa!” Anya grabbed her hand, lifting her arm up to examine the wound. “Are you alright?” 

Marfa pulled her hand away, “Of course, sometimes the men get a little rough.” 

“Let me help you with that,” Anya insisted. She had so few skills and memories, but this was something she could do. 

“What are you going to do- kiss it and make it better?” Marfa asked sarcastically as she glared at the wound. 

Anya rolled her eyes as she went to wet some scraps of sheets she found, and worked on cleaning out the wound. “I used to work for a hospital, this is not my first time tending wounds.” 

“You’re full of surprises, my little bezdomnaya koshka,” Marfa told her. 

“I’ve walked across Russia,” Anya explained as she tried to put together some sort of salve the best she could. She’d try to see what she could get at the market next time she got paid. “I’ve picked up a skill or two.” 

“What are you looking for?” Marfa asked her. 

“My family,” she said. It was the simplest answer she could give without going into her own tragic history. “I seemed to have lost them in the Great War.”

“Ah,” Marfa responded understandingly. “Who amongst us didn’t?”

Anya finished applying the salve to the cut. It wasn’t as bad as the blood initially made it seem. Then, she brought Marfa’s arm up, pressing her lips against the wound in a kiss. She meant to be teasing but when she spoke, it came out slightly breathy, “There- all better!”

Marfa reached over, using her thumb to wipe the salve off Anya’s lips. There was a cloudy look in her eyes that reminded Anya of herself when she thought of Paris. 

The next night, Marfa didn’t return home until Anya was leaving for her first shift. She had woken up more than she normally did throughout the night. The empty space between her and Dunya created cold and restless air. 

The next night she did not awake when Marfa returned, but instead when a hand was pressed against her mouth, muffling the screams from her nightmares, a soothing voice in her ear. Anya became conscious and stopped fighting, and Marfa slowly let go of her mouth and gathered her in her arms. 

“Sladkiy kotenok, you can’t scream like that, they’ll evict us,” Marfa whispered to her, her hand rubbing her arm soothingly. 

As to prove her point an angry knock on the door and a shout happened. She whispered to Anya to stay there, and answered. Anya watched as Marfa twirled a strand of her curly hair around her finger, speaking sweetly to a brute of a man. He leaned in, looking around the apartment and Marfa moved slightly to block his view of Anya. They spoke for another moment or two before Marfa left with him. 

She returned some time later, stopping to rinse her mouth out at the sink and then downing a shot of vodka. Anya was afraid to ask what just happened but Marfa gave her a look warning her against it as she climbed back into bed. 

“You should teach me to do as you,” Anya whispered, biting her lip. It was an unpleasant thought, but survival was an unpleasant business these days.”

“No,” Marfa responded curtly, and laid down on her side. “Keep street sweeping, this life isn’t for the kind.” 

Anya wrapped her arms around Marfa, and Marfa relaxed into the embrace. She fell asleep with her cheek pressed against Marfa’s, and no more nightmares to be had for that night. 

The next night Marfa came back with a cut along her jaw. She sat as Anya leaned over her, cleaning and putting salve on it. She tilted her head as Anya pressed a kiss against it. 

“All better!” Anya proclaimed in that breathy tone she had taken on. 

Marfa’s eyes were closed when she pulled away. Then they opened as her thumb came up to brush the salve off Anya’s lips once again. 

“What sort of men do you take on most?” Anya asked one late morning as her and Marfa walked the market, between her shifts, and after Marfa had woken up. 

Dunya and Paulina loved to recall stories of their clients. Loved to give the most outrageous details, in attempt to see how dark Anya’s blush could go. Marfa generally kept quiet, and wondered if she held back because of Anya saying she should start as well to help earn her keep. 

“Married men and officers,” Marfa responded. “Usually men who have something to lose.”

“They risk their wives for a taste of you?” Anya asked, adopting wording she had heard from the other girls. 

Marfa laughed, looping her arm in Anya’s, “Some have risked more.” She glanced over at Anya. “Sometimes the wives are there too.” 

She looked at her friend in confusion. “He has you both?” 

It seemed like a waste of money to pay for a prostitute if you were already having a wife. 

“Sometimes he watches us,” Marfa whispered to her. 

That concept was even more foreign to her. Marfa laughed at her expression and wrapped her in a hug before releasing her to continue exploring the market. 

A client had ripped a giant hole in the back of Marfa’s blouse one night. She pulled it off and sat across from Anya, while Anya worked to repair it. 

“I worry about you,” Anya confessed, her eyes trained on her stitching. 

“Nothing to worry about,” Marfa said, patting Anya’s knee. “I know how to survive.” 

“We all do until we don’t,” Anya pointed out. 

She gave her a sad smile in return, “Until then.”

Marfa started having her take shots before bed, trying to make her fall into a deeper sleep so the nightmares wouldn’t come. She tried to train herself not to scream, but sometimes she’d still wake up trembling with Marfa’s arms circled around her. 

“I don’t know how to kiss to make this better,” Marfa said with a sigh. 

The request “just kiss me” populated in her brain but she wasn’t certain how or where from. She pushed it away. Her mind and memory were broken. 

“Do you have dreams?” Anya asked one night. Marfa was supposed to be getting ready to join the other girls on Theater St, but had gotten distracted by brushing Anya’s hair. 

Marfa stopped brushing, looking down at Anya as though considering it. “Just one, I suppose.” She looked away and moved the brush to a different section of hair. “What about you, kotenok?” 

Her dreams, like her nightmares, were abstract and jumbled. She was forever destined to long for things and emotions she couldn’t quite put into words. Except for one. “I wish to go to Paris.” 

“Paris?” Marfa asked with a laugh. “Why Paris?”

“I think I have family there,” she said softly. “But I know it’s impossible to get exit papers.” 

Marfa sighed, “Nearly impossible. When you think you’re ready, I know who can help you.”

Anya tilted her head up, her eyes wide. “You do?”

“Yes,” but she sounded sad about it. “Are you ready?”

She thought she had been, but in this moment, Marfa standing over her, her fingers threaded through her hair she didn’t feel ready. “Not yet.”

She hadn’t realized Marfa had been holding her breath until she saw her start breathing again. 

Another night, Marfa came home limping. She was almost always the first to come home from the night. She didn’t know if that just meant she got picked up before the other girls or if she was more efficient at her job. 

Anya had slowly adapted to the girls sleeping schedule and found herself staying up later, and waking up with barely enough time to make it to the square where she swept. 

“What happened?”

“Long nails and rough fingers,” Marfa waved it off. “Don’t worry about it.” 

It was her job to worry about it. She had been mending up Marfa since she started living with them. The other girls didn’t come home with as many injuries, or if they did, they did not tell Anya about them. Instead, these patient and nurse moments seemed secret between them. It made her pulse skip a beat. 

She should not find any joy, even the slightest, in Marfa’s injuries. 

“Lift up your skirt,” Anya demanded, already getting the rags she used for this ready. 

Marfa rolled her eyes but sat on the table, lifting her skirts up to mid thigh. She was surprised to see Marfa didn’t wear bloomers, but thinking about it now she wasn’t sure why she expected her to. 

Anya’s mouth was dry and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

She carefully cleaned out the wound, her fingers not steady as she placed the salve on her inner thigh. She hesitated, their joking tradition of kiss and make better suddenly seem more intimate. But it would be stranger, now, if she did not partake. 

Her lips pressed against the wound, the skin around it soft against her lips. Marfa let out a noise, and Anya jumped back. She wiped off the salve from her lips with the back of her hand, forgetting that Marfa usually wiped it off for her. 

“Did I hurt you?”

Marfa’s eyes were dark and slightly unfocused, before she shook her head. But then said, “Just a little bit.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Marfa cupped her face with the palm of her hands, and tilted her head up. An anticipation uncoiled inside of her, but then went unsatisfied as Marfa released her. “Nothing to be sorry for. You did magnificent.” 

Anya wasn’t convinced, she felt like she had failed in some way. 

She woke up the next morning to find Dunya snoring softly in her ear, and no sign of Marfa in sight. 

Anya wondered if maybe she should ask Marfa for her connection for exit papers, but something stopped her every time. 

“Let me paint your face,” Paulina announced one night, now that she had decided Anya was no threat at all. “I can make you into someone you’re not.”

Anya had spent the entirety of her known life doing that exact thing but she sat down and let Paulina paint her anyway. 

Marfa came home just as Paulina was finishing, and she stepped back to request her friends opinion. 

“Beautiful work on a beautiful canvas,” Marfa proclaimed, but her eyes never left Anya’s newly bright red lips. 

Anya’s tongue came out to lick her lower lip and Paulina scolded her for ruining her beautiful work. 

That night, it was Marfa who made whimpering noises in her sleep. Anya reached over and held her hand, and Marfa rolled over and buried her face in the crook of Anya’s shoulder. 

Another night, Marfa came home, her lip fat and a little bloodied. 

“I worry about you,” Anya said, pressing a cold rag against it to get the swelling to go down. 

“I worry about me too,” Marfa agreed. 

Anya frowned, because she would usually deflect when she expressed her worry over her. She applied the salve and then hesitated a moment before she realized what she had to kiss. Then her lips slid over Marfa’s and her heartbeat quickened. 

Then Marfa’s mouth opened under hers and Anya did not pull away. She had never pressed a kiss this long and knew it was time to pull away. Marfa’s tongue moved across her mouth, and Anya opened for access instead. 

There was a feeling of her gripping Marfa’s shoulders, and Marfa’s grip tightening against her waist. This was what every skipper beat of her pulse, every moment of anticipation and yearning had been seeking for the past few weeks. 

A moan escaped from her own lips, and she pulled away. Her face flushed and breathing hard. 

“We-“ the word can’t was lost to her, so she forced out, “shouldn’t.” 

“My sweet bezdomnaya koshka,” Marfa said, leaning in and pressing a kiss below her ear. Anya’s eyes fluttered shut. “One day you’re going to leave me for Paris, let us have this.” 

Their lips met again, desperate and needy. It went against every dream she ever thought she had but made her soul soar. 

“They’d kill us for this,” Anya whispered, glancing over at the door as though there’d be a soldier stationed right there. 

“They’re going to kill us anyway,” Marfa whispered as well, because she was right but to say so was treasonous. “Probably for something less than this.” 

Her palm pressed against Marfa’s cheek and Marfa turned her head to kiss it. 

“Anya,” she said, her green eyes on hers. Direct. “I bloodied my lip just for the chance to kiss you.” 

Anya closed what little distance that remained between them, their lips meeting again. Hands urgently tugging at items of clothing. Falling tangled onto the bed. 

They could worry about what came next later. All they needed right now was this moment.


End file.
